Stranger with Time
by Salamon2
Summary: Aravis returns to Anvard after searching for the Narnian Kings and Queens with a small party of Archenlanders a few years after their disappearance. She returns home to find Cor less the Shasta she knew, troubling her and reminding her of the fears the Red Witch had plagued her with before her defeat.


**Stranger with Time**

 _Chapter One: The Return to Anvard_

Time passes though we wish it wouldn't, and what was today is swiftly swept into yesterday. This was a moral that Aravis recalled from her earliest childhood when her elder brother had told her a story of a man who had spent his whole life thinking of the perfect story to tell—only to die before he could tell it properly to anyone. Its message was strong and clear—one never has enough time in this world.

It had been nearly a year since Aravis had left Archenland to search Narnia and the Western Wilds for the Pevensies. After having defeated the Red Witch of the Wilds, who claimed to have been a pupil and former ally of the White Witch, Jadis, Aravis was eager to see the towers of Anvard once again. She had seen sixteen summers when she'd left and now on the eve of her seventeenth birthday could see the towers rising in the distance. Eager for the company of the twins, a full meal, a bath, and her own bed, Aravis spurred her grey mare to gallop ahead of Darrin and Shar—who had been with her the entirety of the trip upon King Lune's express commands. They hadn't been the entirety of the party who had left Archenland to search for the Pevensies, but Ina had broken off to journey on to Sandsend herself a few days before. No pleas to the contrary could convince Ina to budge on staying even one night at Anvard. A fact made clear when she'd overheard Darrin and Shar speak the night of Ina's departure when they thought Aravis asleep.

"It's rather rude to not show your respect to the King at the very least," grumbled Shar as he had poked the fire with a stick, stirring up embers as he spoke.

Darrin had shook his head and sighed, "I don't blame her for wishing to avoid the court. Her mother is out of favor."

Shar had protested, "The Marchioness was caught off guard by Rabadash per the lion's design. Had she done her job as Keeper of the Flame, Prince Cor and Aravis would have never been needed to warn Archenland."

"The other lords never see things that way. All they see is Marchioness Ishanta's dusky complexion and Calormene name."

"She is only a quarter Calormene!"

"That's enough for most of the lords. Not all are as understanding as King Lune is, especially since the invasion nearly cost Archenland its freedom. How his grace can keep all the court from insulting our little Tarkheena, only Aslan knows."

"Lune is still a hero of the war, and she the Lady of Anvard by his decree. As long as he treats her as his daughter, no one will say anything to our Aravis. I just worry of what they'll say when he dies and Prince Cor takes the throne and marries, for the Lady of Anvard is a title of the Queen's."

Shasta sit the throne? The idea was at once laughable and yet right in another way. So much so it delayed her from considering what else they had mentioned—of what the court would say of her when he did. It hadn't been much of a concern in her thoughts before now, but if Shar and Darrin were to be believed, what protection she had received from King Lune's royal beneficence would dissipate like the fog in the rising sun. What was to come of her? She could not return to Calavar, her life in Calormen was of course at an end. Her father, having heard she had been taken in as the "Barbarian King's" ward, had written to her and in the name of Tash denounced her affiliation with the family, declaring that for her disobedience that should she require any protection from him or any of her other cousins, that she would be denied and left to starve. Her cousin Alimash had countered her father's letter, saying that should she ever require his services as a kinsman, he would do what he could to protect and guard her honor, and wished her joy. Bree's good opinion of him had certainly been warranted. But of course, Alimash was not a Tarkaan in his own right, and would be required by law to follow what the head of his family, her father, decreed was the honorable thing to do, or risk banishment of himself from all civilized society. So while she had warmed herself in the thought that her cousin cared for her, she knew his pledge, should she ever force him to live up to it, would be a death sentence to his career in the Army of the Tisroc. West was Telmar—a fledgling kingdom in its own right as a protectorate of Calormen. And to the East lay naught but islands and pirates.

Narnia of course was also out of the question—not that the country ill-suited her, but that after what she had seen searching for the Pevensies, the land would not be brought to heel of good governance for some time. Some of the lower orders of Centaurs, Satyrs, Dryads, and Dwarves had begun to band together among their own kind and squabble over territory. Rumors of the potential for civil war were high, and that was reason enough to stay in the secluded fertile valleys and mountains of Archenland. And yet the problem loomed over her of where her place in the world should be.

These thoughts were more readily disturbed when she at last dismounted her horse in the outer ward of Anvard and looked around eagerly for any sign of welcome home. Shar was greated by his wife, and Darrin was busy speaking with the stable boy about seeing to the horses. And then the crowd of castle servants—already dissipating to return to their chores parted so that King Lune and one of the twins was there ready to greet her. Quite forgetting herself, Aravis, eager for some confirmation of belonging to Anvard, ran to the plump old king and hugged him like a girl half her age might have done.

"My, what a greeting, child. As you can see we're all here in one piece," clucked the King with a jolly smile as Aravis turned and realized that it was Corin who had come to greet her before she hugged. The hug caught Corin off guard, but the stocky boy accepted it with a slight pat on the back.

"Whassa maddur, Aravis?" asked Corin, his mouth muffled by her hair.

"Where's Cor?" she asked, recalling what the Red Witch's vision had shown her and suddenly growing worried of its portent.

King Lune looked about, as though the whereabouts of his eldest and heir hadn't been on his mind until the current moment. He added as he looked, "He is supposed to be here. He was fighting Dar in the practice yards last I saw."

"He went up to change not long ago," said Corin as he pulled a hair from her off of his face.

The sound of footfalls eagerly plodding across the wooden hoarding from the Great Keep along the inner wall and down the steps by the yett.

"Whoooaa!" called a deeper voice than Aravis had expected, and a lean, but still somewhat lanky, Cor came tumbling down the steps the next second only to fall into the dirt at Aravis' feet. Corin burst into laughter beside her, and even King Lune couldn't help but chuckle jollily at the sight.

"Hullo, Aravis. Sorry, I'm late," chirped Cor the moment his eyes met hers.

If she hadn't been reminded then of the vision of Cor the Red Witch had flitted before her eyes, she might have scolded him. Clearly he expected as much as he shifted his weight upon onto his elbows, and was caught off guard as much as Corin had been as she took to a knee and hugged him. He was still here, and still his kind, clumsy, stubborn Shasta self.

"Clearly my ward has a story to tell of Narnia, if she arrives home having missed us all so very much," prodded King Lune.

"Did you, Aravis?" asked Cor rather pointedly, bringing her out of her thoughts.

Aravis then stood and helped Cor up himself, disoriented by Cor having at last joined Corin in finally surpassing her in height. She absentmindedly brushed the dirt off Cor's tunic as she answered, "Why of course I missed you. What kind of lady or tarkheena would I be to not have missed you all?"

Had Aravis been paying closer attention to Cor's face, she would have noticed that it screwed up slightly in response to her answer, as though it hadn't been completely what he'd hoped in response. It was gone though, by the moment she looked again, but his father saw it all and understood.

"Perhaps you would care to tell us more of your trip, my dear, Cor I imagine would especially care to hear of it."

"Not just Cor! Did you fight anything while you were in Narnia? The northern knights all say that the country's gone to the dogs since the High King vanished. Surely you must have gotten in a scrap or two yourself!" interrupted Corin at the worst of all times.

"Yes, I have much to say… but right now I could do with a nice bath and a rest in my own bed," said Aravis with a clear exhaustion.

"Of course, of course. We shall not pester you a moment longer, my dear. Come Corin, let us see how well you are coming along with your boxing."

Corin, for his part burst out into a grin and excitedly agreed to that, though before he left he surprised Aravis with a hug that lifted her off her feet and a kiss he cheekily stole from her cheek. Playfully Aravis swatted him away as he put her back down and departed with, "It's good to have you back, Aravis."

Cor then stepped in and offered, "I'll walk you to your chambers."

"I know where they are, Cor. You need not play the part of gracious host to me now!" she protested before adding uncertainly, "But you can walk with me, nevertheless."

"I wasn't playing the part of host to you, Aravis," he defended as they departed for the Great Keep.

"Oh weren't you? And here I thought you were keen to practice your social graces?" she asked, recalling how she had helped him to learn the proper manners of a princely lordling.

"I don't need to practice anymore. Father's invited nearly all the realm to visit while you were away. I've been inundated with so many guests that I've had to bow, simper, and compliment that I'm rather experienced at it all now."

"Oh," said Aravis, surprised that he seemed now so confident in his role all of a sudden. This was far unlike Shasta.

"Though truth be told, I rather didn't like all the company and the constant parade they required. It reminded me far too much of Tashbaan," added Cor as he reached out to open the door to the Great Keep for them.

Aravis added as she passed through the doors, "They shall be your subjects one day, your father is smart to begin introductions now. He will not rule for forever, you know, though you may wish that to be so."

"Aye, he isn't the Tisroc," quipped Cor with a wink that seemed to remind Aravis of Corin in that moment.

"And how did you like your future nobles?" questioned Aravis as Cor closed the doors behind them.

They ascended the stairs as they continued, Cor asking, "They were all rather nice in their own ways. The Marchioness of the Southern Marches was here most recently. You traveled with her daughter, didn't you?"

"Yes, Ina and I rather got on well. Her grandmother had been a Tarkheena and escaped from Calormen just as we did and married the Marquess after settling in Archenland. Ina told me all about how the Marquess met her grandmother on the trip, though not in the proper fashion of a Calormene story I should say. That is something I tried to teach her as we journeyed, but Ina couldn't have been bothered with learning."

Cor pointed out, "Well, Lady Ina is an Archenlander."

"Yes, but she has Calormene blood in her as well. And while I may disagree with many things my countrymen do, there are a few things that they do better than a lot of Northerners, and telling stories rather well is one of them. When I have children, all of them shall know the proper Calormene art of storytelling."

"At this rate you'll soon be saying we should start dressing in silks and vests like all civilized people," grumbled Cor.

"I would not! Besides in this climate, I'd be mad to suggest such a thing!" protested Aravis with a slight glare.

"Then why did you try and force Lady Ina to be more Calormene when she clearly didn't wish it?" questioned Cor as they came to the floor that Aravis' chambers were on.

"Oh you wouldn't understand. Proper storytelling for a Calormene is… like water for fish or better still, the sun for plants. Without it we wither and starve!" exclaimed Aravis.

Cor frowned, and rounded, "And why wouldn't I understand? I was raised in Calormen just as much as you were, and I don't recall storytellers being half so well praised. Arsheesh was fond of proverbs, but he hadn't the time for stories."

"Ah, but you weren't raised as a Tarkhaan," explained Aravis.

"That's what I thought you meant," stated Cor. His frown was replaced with what looked to Aravis a blank face as he bowed rather formerly and quite correctly to her and departed with, "I should return to my studies."

Cor left her there nearly at the door to her chambers stunned and without so much as a "see you at dinner" as she had expected from him. However before she could truly ponder his reaction her ladies and maids came for her and hurried her into her chambers where a tub for her bath had already been brought up and was in the process of being filled by manservants. Her ladies assisted her in taking off the boiled leather and tunics that had been her only clothes for months since she'd set out for the Wild Lands west of Narnia from Cair Paravel. Bruises and scars she had earned along the way were fussed and cooed over.

"A merchant sells the finest ointment to make such things disappear. I shall order some for you immediately if you wish, my lady," declared Lady Elinor, one of the daughters of the Knights sworn to protect Anvard and its Lady. Elinor was a year Aravis' senior and always assuming things she shouldn't as far as Aravis was concerned.

"You shall not. I am rather fond of this scar," protested Aravis as she wrenched her right arm away from the grasp of the noblewoman.

"Fond of a scar! You speak almost as if you were like Queen Lucy," tittered Lady Hel, this one was older by three years and a wife of yet another knight.

"You forget we were friends," protested Aravis as her chemise was lifted from her body.

Lady Hel added, "You'll never find a husband who likes scars as much as you do. All men want skin as smooth as the ice on a pond in winter."

"And if I don't marry?" questioned Aravis as she shivered, naked as the day she had been born, to which she only received giggles from even the maids.

"Well, then you'd be missing out on quite a lot of joy, if I do say so myself. Old maids are such sad creatures, wouldn't you say, Lady Penelope?" proclaimed Lady Hel with a knowing look about her that Aravis failed to grasp.

"Oh yes indeed," echoed Lady Penelope with a knowing smirk, another married woman about Lady Hel's age with a rounding belly just beginning to grow with child if Aravis was any judge.

Aravis was helped into her bath which was now ready for her and still somewhat warm.

"I ran away from Calormene to escape a marriage. I don't intend to turn around and marry so soon after doing so," insisted Aravis.

"Your choice is yours, my Lady, and your loss to waste your youth without the knowledge of a man," clucked Lady Penelope.

"I know enough of men to know I shan't find many to accept me as I am, so why bother? In any case I grow tired of talking about men. Pray do change the subject."

"Well, there was quite a number of petitioners while you were away my Lady," commented Lady Elinor as she sprinkled in some petals from the lilies of the valley and violets into Aravis' bathwater. She mentioned the petitioners as being Lady of Anvard required her to look after the people of the city below the castle, hear their concerns, and solve their matters when they could not. It was a trying part of her own existence, but something she rather liked as it showed King Lune put his faith in her. It also was far more than what a Tarkheena might expect in Calormene. Typically if a Tarkhaan's only heir was his daughter, her eventual husband would take over the ruling of her lands for her. Here in the free North, women could rule in their own name, like Queens Susan and Lucy had.

"I assume their complaints were dealt with or recorded for me?" assumed Aravis as she swirled about the flower petals.

"Oh, aye. I have the rolls with the matters that could not be settled in your solar," explained Lady Hel.

"Good, how many were there?" asked Aravis.

"Nigh five rolls worth, my lady."

Considering a roll was over a foot long each, and her scribe had tiny precise handwriting, that was saying something.

"What did nearly every person in Anvard seek an audience with me while I was away?" queried Aravis.

Lady Hel explained, "There were plenty of merchants and knights seeking approval for marriages, others requesting letters patent on matters your man thought it best for you to look over, and so on and so forth."

"Oh… quillwork," grumbled Aravis, that she could believe. The most tedious part of being a Lady.

Lady Penelope clucked, "Indeed, but well needed in the city down below."

"I'll begin addressing that tomorrow… or perhaps the next day," sighed Aravis, hoping that she wouldn't be stuck behind mounds and mounds of letters patent needing her signature and seal for moons and moons to come. She wanted to be out and in the practice yard as well to keep what skills she'd learned from Ina fresh in her mind, and she also wished to actually go out into the city as well. It was almost time for the yearly celebration of the defeat of the White Witch after all, and surely some festival proposal would pop up and she'd find some excuse to plan it and organize it—if only to keep from having to tire her hands out by signing so many letters patent.

"Do you require anything else, my lady?" asked Lady Elinor.

"No, I can manage on my own from here until this evening. I shall need you all to help me dress for dinner, but until then you're all dismissed," announced Aravis and her gaggle of ladies departed her chamber after each said their goodbyes to her.

After they had all departed, Aravis sighed with great relief and dipped her head underneath the water for a short while before popping back up to breathe. She then settled herself with her back leaning against the back of the tub and closed her eyes to enjoy the warm soak of a good bath. As she laid back in the warm water her thoughts began to swirl as she was lulled to sleep.

Once again she was a young girl riding to escape her father and Ashota. Alongside her was Hwin, Bree, and Shasta, and everything seemed normal—until the sight of a red cloth appeared before them. And then Aravis found herself staring at the Red Witch of the Wild West. She had long hair dyed red by some means, and long flowing robes of red cloth that flapped in the desert wind.

"You think you have defeated me girl? What did I tell you? You shall carry me for the rest of your days!" pronounced the Red Witch with an evil smile.

"You have no power over me!" insisted Aravis, remembering what had beaten back the visions before.

"Maybe not, but what of your friends?" questioned the Witch and suddenly a flash of red light occurred, blinding her temporarily as it had before when they had faced down the witch. Only this time, Aravis blinked away the blindness to discover in Shasta's place stood a man, tall, lean, bearded, blonde, and handsome, dressed as only a prince should in cloth of gold and scarlet silk.

"Shasta!" called out Aravis.

"He's gone, Aravis. Gone and forgotten," said the man.

A panic rose in Aravis' heart and she asked, "No, where is he? What have you done with him?!"

"He's gone," echoed the man a little more forcefully.

"What have you done with him?! Bring him back!" she demanded.

"What has gone will not come again in this life," stated the man, quoting an old Calormene proverb as he took her by the wrist.

"Stay off of me… you're… you're a stranger to me."

"Am I?" questioned the man and suddenly the Red Witch was there again, standing next to the man, smirking all knowingly, and it was with a start that Aravis awoke from her doze in the tub.


End file.
